


i loved you better than your own kin

by Theboys



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, High School, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:50:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6788284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theboys/pseuds/Theboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He can’t kill me now; too many witnesses,” Jared hisses and then he swings his bookbag up and over one shoulder.</p><p>His legs follow an unspoken command and he’s proud of himself for following Jensen without any major missteps.</p><p>He hopes Jensen doesn’t mess with his face; that’ll really kill his mother.</p><p>Jared's on the academic fast-track to following in his older brother's footsteps, and Chad's a shit of a best friend who thinks that life is an actual John Hughes movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> YOU GUYS.
> 
> I borderline finished something 3/4ths of the way before posting it. This is such a momentous occasion I'm not really sure what to do with it. Regular updates because I have so much completed, and tags are to be added accordingly. There is potentially triggering subject material to (eventually) be found, so take a hop skip over to my [tumblr](http://brosamigos.tumblr.com/) and send me a message if you want to be explicitly warned in advance. 
> 
> I will say; it's no more triggering than most of my works, and probably less so (imo). Please enjoy the shit I write as I pretend to slog through the last of my meanttobe with all the grace of a rotting corpse.
> 
> Title taken from Famous by Kanye West.

Jared’s stomach is probably about to fall out through his feet.

Colleen’s nudging him, bony fingers scraping against Jared’s parka, but Jared is too busy contemplating how he’s gonna survive life on the run, especially considering that he’s never smashed his piggy bank open (it seems heartlessly cruel to take a life in the endless pursuit of money).

Jared’s nicest North Face is history (it’s the one he asked his Aunt Kathy for last Christmas) and Jared would be worried about that if he didn’t have bigger fish to fry.

The entire cafeteria of McDowell High is silent, congealed masses of food clumped to eyelashes, pressed down shirts, and in the case of one memorable girl, shoved directly down her sweatpants, but Jared’s not breathing, so he can’t laugh at Amy Parr.

Colleen’s hand is so tight around his wrist he can feel the bruise beginning, but if she lets go then _he’ll_ see, and Jared’s not equipped to deal with that.

His mother has already bought him three different College Prep books and the three-hundred page practice guide to the AP US History test that he hasn’t even gotten the textbook for yet.

He’s probably a buck twenty-five soaking wet, and his eyes can’t settle on any good color (mud, most days) and his legs reach up to his ears even though he’s only 5’7.

He’s fourteen years old with no marketable skills and now he’s in a quandary because he’s gonna have to survive on the hot Mexican streets even though he’s only taken a semester of Spanish and that too was an accident because French was already full--

Jared’s arm clips the table when Colleen drops his wrist and Jared’s face flushes when he realizes that everyone is _staring_ at him.

Jared’s spent his life quiet in the shadows, unobtrusive, and he instinctively looks for Chad. Chad started this whole thing, flung brick-soft mashed potatoes at Amell’s face just because Amell gave Jared a funny look.

Thanks best friend, Jared thinks dryly, because now he’s got creamed corn slithering down his back and the remnants of spaghetti noodles in his right fist.

The rest of his first--and last--food fight is slathered against the back of Jensen Ackles’ head, and no one in the cafeteria is moving because Jared’s just committed the biggest faux-pas one can make in this school.

He’s bothered Jensen.

And what’s worse; he’s _angered_ Jensen.

“He can smell fear,” Colleen whispers, and Jared wants to know why he ever thought she was helpful at any point in their friendship.

Jensen’s standing now, back hunched, over at his table with his friends, in his black shirt.

Jensen wears black like it’s the only color he can see; he’s never been exposed to the spectrum and just grabs what’s always been in his closet.

The back of Jensen’s blonde hair is stained red; Jared’s knees buckle.

“M’gonna run,” Jared says, and Jared watches as the other people that normally share their table shift backwards in self-preservation.

Jared’s never heard Jensen speak. He doesn’t think anyone outside of his circle of friends knows what Jensen’s voice sounds like.

Jensen is a senior; there’s no reason for he and Jared to ever cross paths.

He towers over Jared besides, and Jared manages to keep his head ducked low whenever they’re near Jensen and his crew; that’s the idea.

Jensen doesn’t _look_ angry; he doesn’t look like anything, and Jared mentally apologizes to Sheryl as he steels himself to smash her open tonight and collect all the bills she’s housed over the years.

“You?” Jensen says, and he comes to a stop just in front of Jared.

To Jared’s eternal shame; his knees actually wobble, and Colleen’s death-grip on his arm is all that keeps him upright.

“Me?” Jared squeaks back, and he can feel the flame of embarrassment lick across his face.

Jensen’s voice is deep.

“You the one,” Jensen repeats, and Jared nods shakily; his own voice is a liar.

Jensen steps three strides closer and even Colleen shrinks against him. Jared remains standing only because Colleen is shaking now, and he won’t leave Colleen alone with Jensen.

“It was an accident,” Jared says quietly, and Jensen’s jaw twitches.

“Come with me,” Jensen says, and he turns without waiting for Jared’s response.

Jared’s reflexes are apparently quicker than his mouth, because he spins and leans down the three inches needed to peer into Colleen’s face.

“He can’t kill me now; too many witnesses,” Jared hisses and then he swings his bookbag up and over one shoulder.

His legs follow an unspoken command and he’s proud of himself for following Jensen without any major missteps.

He hopes Jensen doesn’t mess with his face; that’ll really kill his mother.

-

Jensen doesn’t break his stride until they’re in the student parking lot.

Jared knows they’re not allowed to be here during school hours; there are probably gonna be security officers here soon to escort them back to the building.

Jared digs his Converse into the dirt, doesn’t bother pushing his hair behind his ears from where it hangs over his eyes.

He’ll be less scared if he doesn’t see what Jensen plans for him.

“Jared?” Jensen says, and Jared’s neck flips up on instinct.

“Why do you know my name?” Jared says, and immediately wants to follow that up with a sir.

“Your friend screamed it at the top of her lungs,” Jensen says. “Right after this,” Jensen finishes, motioning to the mess on the back of his head.

It’s the most Jared’s ever heard Jensen say (even though his experience is limited) and Jared sighs so hard his body trembles.

“M’sorry, my friend threw potatoes at--at Stephen ‘cause he said Stephen was being an ass to me, but--but I didn’t even see it, and then the whole cafeteria started, and it was like--like a John Hughes movie and Colleen knocked into me and I have better aim than that, promise--” Jared says, when it registers that Jensen’s not saying anything.

His face is placid, and Jared wrinkles his brow, tries to recall whether Jensen has shown any emotion this whole time.

“Amell?” Jensen asks, and Jared scrubs one hand across his face. “Uh-huh,” Jared replies, suddenly uncertain.

“It wasn’t his fault e-either,” Jared stutters, and Jensen crosses his arms across his chest.

“Wasn’t it, Jared?” Jensen says, and Jared curls his toes up with the way Jensen says his name.

“N-no,” Jared says firmly, and Jensen’s face invites him to explain. “I threw it. I threw it,” Jared repeats, willing the quiver to leave his voice.

“It was an--an accident, but it wasn’t Stephen’s fault,” Jared says, and Jensen doesn’t say anything for so long that Jared actually sways in place.

“Hey,” Jensen says, stepping so close that Jared can count the freckles lining Jensen’s nose.

Huh.

How long have those existed?

“Hey,” Jensen says again, more strongly, and Jared realizes that Jensen’s got one hand wrapped around Jared’s upper arm. Jared squirms in distaste when he realizes that Jensen can feel the fleshy give of his skin, and attempts to pull free.

“You eat your lunch or you throw it all away,” Jensen says, and Jared’s book bag is so heavy on his back.

“It ended up on your head, so no, not really,” Jared says snidely, and then black spots muddle across his vision because he just forgot who he was talking to. He forgot who he was talking to.

Jensen’s face moves for the first time throughout this debacle, and Jared watches as Jensen smirks, once.

“I oughta beat your ass, you know,” Jensen says calmly, and Jared’s too tired to move away.

“Why?” Jared whispers, and Jensen peers down at him, doesn’t loosen his grip.

“I would’ve done it to anyone else,” Jensen says simply, and Jared nods in lieu of an answer. He knew that. He understood that when he walked out here.

“You gonna?” Jared says, cause he’s gotta know. He can’t handle this cat and mouse game Jensen seems to be so fond of.

“No,” Jensen says, and Christ, talking to Jensen Ackles is like counting kernels of grain, pulling rotting teeth.

“Why--why are--why not?” Jared stutters, and he’s exhausted. He’s got two papers due tomorrow and he still has to do a third-edit over them with his mother, and he’s got half a bag of trail mix burning a hole in his backpack.

“Cause I like this color,” Jensen says, one thumb tilting Jared’s head back. “I’ll ruin it if I give you a black eye.” Jensen steps back and Jared knows he’s blinking lethargically, but Jensen just made the most straight-guy-homo statement ever.

Jensen’s so heterosexual he probably straightened out all the gayness in his sentence and Jared’s just missing the point.

“My face,” Jared says stupidly, and Jensen laughs this time, deep and oil-rich.

“You’re pretty.” Jensen puts one big hand on Jared’s shoulder and smiles, all teeth and serrated edges.

“M’not gonna fuck that up for me.”

-

“You gonna be his sex slave?” Chad asks, head bowed low over the second desk in Jared’s bedroom.

Jared’s gonna try out for JV basketball when the time rolls around, so he feels justified in lobbing the nerf approximation at Chad’s upturned face.

“Does anyone love you?” Colleen asks, knees tucked just up under her pale chin. “Like, including your mom?”

“Aubrey Drake loves the shit out of me,” Chad retorts and Jared gives up on the introductory APUSH chapter he’s trying to push through.

“Your bearded dragon doesn’t count,” Jared points out and then he leans his head back, mouth open on a whine.

“I don’t think---I think he was fucking around,” Jared says, and Colleen uncurls her legs as Palpatine skitters out from underneath Jared’s bed.

“The force is strong with this one,” Colleen mutters as she extends her fingers for Palpatine to sniff. Palpatine is jet black and he’s a small cat for his age, but his eyes are still lawn-green and luminous as he chooses whether or not to grace Colleen with his presence today.

“What like, gay chicken?” Chad says, and Jared moans louder.

“Exactly,” Jared says. “Jensen probably like, burns gay guys at the stake in his backyard. After he pours moonshine on ‘em,” Jared adds on an afterthought, and Colleen gives him a long-suffering sigh.

“It’s prolly like a gang-initiation thing, too,” Chad says, turning away from the desk Jared’s mother bought specifically for Chad, to high-five Jared.

Jared’s palm connects limply before he remembers exactly what he’s celebrating.

“Uh, this isn’t Salem and we’re not in an episode of Sons of Anarchy, _Chad,”_ Colleen says, stretching out a foot to kick Chad in the shin.

“You got no respect for the dead,” Chad gripes, dragging his leg out of the way when it looks like Colleen is coming back for more.

“Jay’s not dying,” Colleen breathes out, and Jared and Chad snort in unison.

“Okay, not today,” Jared acquiesces, and Colleen grabs Palpatine entirely, dragging his stunted mass onto her lap. Palpatine is too refined to cry out but he does hiss once and then fall silent.

-

Jared’s mother makes him keep his sneakers in a heap by the front door entryway because she considers them toxins and she’ll not stand for those in her house.

Jared’s brother’s due home for a visit any day now and he knows that his mother will make him cart all the tennis shoes down into the basement, like Jeff isn’t fucking used to the stench.

Jared and Jeff ran together every day before he went to UVA, and it’s not the same without him.

Jared runs his six every morning; chronic shin splints and lungs heaving.

It’s more important now because he needs the time to think.

These are his favorite shoes, they’re Nike free, 5 ounces and they burn rubber. He taps them against one leg and decides to cart these upstairs. They’re so light he’ll be able to sprint upstairs and around the corner to his room before his mother can yell.

Jared’s hunched over his homework all night, and when he glances over at Sheryl he thinks she’s sticking her nose up at him.

-

Chad is uncharacteristically helpful next morning; he’s convinced his older sister to let them ride to school with her, and Jared is forever grateful.

They usually ride with Colleen and her older brother, but Colleen’s sick (convenient, Chad gripes) and Jared thinks he’d probably vomit all over Chad and his AP World textbook, in that order.

Rebecca’s pretty much the girl-version of Chad, and Jared thinks this is probably why the two get along so well.

Rebecca doesn’t usually drive them to school in the morning because she’s riding her boyfriend in the backseat, two blocks away from Chad’s house.

Chad shrugs and tells Jared that Reebs says it helps her focus before class. Jared always brings a towel to spread on the backseat on the rare occasions that they ride in Rebecca’s Jeep, and from the satiated, almost drugged look on Reebs’ face, Jared thanks God he didn’t forget it this morning.

“Throw your bookbag in the back, Munch,” Rebecca directs, and Chad tosses it without looking; Jared dodges the projectile with years of practice.

Rebecca’s been calling Chad Dick Muncher since they were five and she was seven; she heard it on TV once and Chad’s never been allowed to hear anything else since.

She’s a considerate bitch (her words, not Jared’s) and she shortens it to Munch in polite society.

Chad grunts; he’s not a morning person, but Jared wakes up an hour and a half early for his run and shower, so he’s basically golden.

He’s got both hands wrapped around his thermos, black coffee, and his hands are sweaty.

“Strap in huh, Jay,” Rebecca says without turning around, and Jared fumbles with his belt; he always forgets.

“Which one of you motherfuckers gave Colleen mono?” Reebs says, weaving through non-existent traffic.

Chad snorts and Jared choke-laughs. “She doesn’t have mono, you ass,” Jared says. Chad’s head smacks against the passenger window and Jared turns his attention back to Rebecca’s profile.

“Colleen doesn’t get sick,” Reebs points out helpfully, and Chad sighs heavily. “You’re sure fucking talkative for someone who’s been sitting on King Henry’s limp-ass dick for an hour,” Chad grouses.

Jared snorts, relaxing into his seat. He braces his weight on his left arm so he can tuck his right leg underneath his ass.

Chad thinks there’s nothing more funny than the fact that Reebs is dating a guy named _Henry_ and Jared’s inclined to agree, though he’d never tell Reebs so without Chad present. He’s hoping to use his dick one day, and he doesn’t want Reebs to put a preemptive halt to the dream.

“Promised I’d buy you a dildo so you didn’t have to be so jealous, Munch,” Reebs retorts, and Jared listens on automatic.

They don’t know how to communicate without insults for flavoring, Jared thinks, and it’s surprisingly calming as Reebs rockets into the student parking lot.

They’re closer to the late bell then they would be if Ryan was driving them, but Jared’s not in a particular hurry to get back to school, anyway.

“Text me when you’re out,” Reebs tells Chad, and she drags Jared in for a side hug before she jogs across the junior lot to meet the VIII.

Chad locks the doors from the inside and scrubs one hand across the back of his eye. Jared holds his thermos out in a peace offering and Chad takes a giant slug before he seems to remember that Jared doesn’t take anything in his coffee.

“Jesus, Jay,” Chad says, thrusting the metal back at him, “shit tastes like medieval pussy,” Chad states.

“Like, she’s been hunting and gathering all day and like, her knight is coming home from the Crusades, and she like, didn’t have time to wash up--” Chad’s saying, crisscrossing history, per usual.

Jared’s laughing along, because Chad’s his best friend, and he’s generally a pretty funny guy.

He’s startled by the heavy sound of a truck, rumble of tires and what sounds like heavy metal.

Chad stiffens beside him and wraps one palm around Jared’s shoulder. Jared makes a half turn and watches what looks like a Chevy whip into the lot.

Black Sabbath is piercing this early in the morning, and Jared doubts that Jensen’s gonna even take the time to appreciate that he’s got the same taste in music.

“You don’t go looking at the guillotine if they ain’t dragged you to it yet,” Chad insists, and Jared trips over the laces of his Vans in an effort to keep up with Chad’s demanding tugs on his arm.

-

Jared can’t draw.

He’s got to take an art as a general elective and it’s killing him. He has no inclination toward it, charcoal means nothing to him, and the only thing he’s ever mastered is drawing a road to the horizon. (Newsflash, it’s an open-ended triangle).

Colleen’s not here today to fiddle with his heavy-handed scrawls and make them something mildly legible.

He’s got his legs crossed underneath him and Brian Simmons is wiping lead-dust all across his right cheek. Jared snorts at the sight and Brian glances up, flash of irritation on his face.

“What?” he grouses, spinning his pencil upside down in order to erase what he’s already gotten.

“You got pencil all over your face,” Jared throws back, undeterred.

“Fuck it,” Brian says, sticking his pencil behind one ear. “Where’s Leen,” Brian asks, and Jared refrains from mentioning how much Colleen hates that name. They used to call her Leenie Weenie in middle school and she’s never lived it down.

“Sick,” Jared says, and Brian nods thoughtfully. “You two--?” Brian says, making some kind of vague motion with his stained hands that’s probably supposed to mean dating.

Jared chokes on non-existent spit.

“Me and Coll?” Jared asks. “Fuck no. She’s like my kid sister,” Jared says, shivering in disgust. He’s seen Colleen shirtless a total of eight times, and only one of them was prior to her discovering he was gayer than rainbow-themed anal beads.

“Put in a good word for me?” Brian says, leaning his upper body onto the black-slab of table before them.

“You talk to her,” Jared says. He’s kind of blindsided with the fact that Simmons is into Colleen at all, considering that they’ve known one another for like, seven years, and he’s never shown any inclination towards her at all.

“She hates me,” Brian pouts (honestly) and Jared rolls his eyes back so hard he gets those nasty black spots dancing across his vision.

“Don’t shove a mud-pie down the back of her shirt then, fucker,” Jared says, summoning up some righteous anger on behalf of his best friend.

They spend most of their time ignoring Brian due to the mishap, even though Jared and Brian have always gotten along fairly well, otherwise.

“We were ten!” Brian almost-yells. Mrs. Kent glares at them from over top rimless glasses, and Jared snorts at Brian’s theatricality.

“Stop being a damn asshole to her and she’ll probably talk to you,” Jared says. Brian nods like this is new and informed information and then his smile quirks up.

“Hey, what’d Ackles do to you yesterday?” Brian asks. “After you fucking brained him with--what was it? Chicken Parm?”

“Spaghetti,” Jared mutters. “He didn’t do shit,” Jared says, with way more bravado than he currently feels.

“He’s probably saving it for today,” Brian says wisely, and Jared’s wondering how little it’ll take to convince Chad to punch Brian right in his face.

“Thanks for that,” Jared says. “No, really. I’m looking forward to being hung over top of his fireplace,” Jared says. Brian grins at that and Jared groans heavily; his paper is blank; he can’t fucking draw a house to save his life.

“Talk to Colleen first!” Brian says on an afterthought, and Jared doesn’t have to wonder about corralling Chad into punching; he’ll do it himself.

-

Jared doesn’t run into Jensen until just before lunch. He and Jensen share the same lunch block, and Chad and Jared are sitting with Brian’s table.

Brian really is an ass, but the worst part about it is that he’s well meaning. He’s got a giant circle of friends, (rodents drawn to his shit, Chad helpfully explains), and they’re generally pretty nice to Jared.

They all wanna know if Jensen like, threatened to scalp him or something, and Jared could go the rest of his life without hearing anything about Jensen Ackles ever again.

He’s swirling his applesauce around on his spoon when his table falls silent. His cutlery clatters to his tray and Chad’s blinking stupid, watery eyes balanced on Jared’s face.

Jared has the inescapable urge to go, “he’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

Jared turns slowly, ass halfway hanging off of the small circle that serves as a cafeteria seat.

“Kid,” Jensen says, and Jared takes his cue flawlessly. He shoves his backpack in between Chad’s knock-kneed legs and Chad’s not completely useless, he grabs hold of the handle.

“I’ll give it back to you at Reebs’ car,” Chad says bravely, and Jared is seized with the urge to hug his stupid-as-fuck best friend.

Jared makes some kind of grimace-smile, and then Jensen nods toward the cafeteria exit.

It’s like deja vu, and Jared kind of wishes they could plan their meetings somewhere different.

“You don’t think I’m creative or something?” Jensen says suddenly, and Jared realizes he’s speaking aloud again.

“Fuck,” Jared mutters, palms coming up to cover his eyes.

“I just,” Jared starts. “If you’re gonna kill me, can you please just do it before AP World?” Jared thinks he’s entitled to plead for the parameters around his murder.

Jensen crosses his arms across his chest, fitted black t-shirt and the spirals of some intricate tree-tattoo across his right forearm.

Did he miss that yesterday?

“I told you,” Jensen says, a wealth of patience in his voice that Jared never saw coming, “m’not gonna kill you. Wouldn’t do me any favors,” Jensen adds.

“What do you want, exactly?” Jared asks, and he’s exhausted, the way all interactions with Jensen seem to make him.

His right leg is going stiff and he wishes he were on a run, breakneck pace across cement so he could think clearly for two seconds.

“Hey,” Jensen says, stepping closer with that weird inflection in his voice. “You keep doing that,” Jensen says slowly, more to himself than to Jared.

“Doing what,” Jared says irritably.

“I don’t know,” Jensen says; his voice rises in anger. Jared trembles slightly at the thought that he might have pissed Jensen off even further than normal.

“Stop--stop fucking shaking like that,” Jensen says, and then he’s grabbing Jared by the upper arm and guiding him over to the bench that sits between every third trailer on the strip outside school.

Jared settles down into it; mild confusion crossing his features.

“M’not fucking shaking,” Jared says, and Jensen makes an undefinable noise.

“Sure, kid,” Jensen says. “You just look like you’re about to pass out on my ass everytime we talk.”

Jared shrugs, fists curled into his lap. “Maybe,” Jared says, “if you didn’t drag me out here to talk every day; I wouldn’t be so stressed!”

Jensen’s face screws up and Jared sucks his lower lip into his mouth.

“I should’ve fucking handled this,” Jensen says, and Jared locks his elbows to his sides, so that Jensen can’t say anything about the trembling of his limbs.

“I’m really sorry, Jensen,” Jared says, so weary and tired that he just wants to curl up on the excess of this bench and sleep for days. “I won’t do it again. Don’t break my legs.”

Jensen makes a rough sound and then Jared’s vision fades to black.

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Jared comes to; he smells oil. He blinks his way back to consciousness and almost gags at the low rush of wind that brushes against his cheeks.

He must whimper (as he’s wont to do when he’s disoriented) and he hears Jensen curse under his breath.

“Christ. Christ; Jared,” he hears, and he turns his head; blink-heavy to face the sound of Jensen’s voice. Jensen’s driving, and they’re in the cab of Jensen’s truck; Jared can see that now.

The interior is immaculate; the only thing Jared can smell is the oil, tangled under the scent of lemons.

Jensen’s fingers are smudged with residual black, and they’re tapping at a frantic pace on his wheel. Jensen’s non-driving leg is jittering underneath him, and he rotates his gaze from Jared to rearview to sideview to Jared.

“You okay?” Jensen asks, and Jared unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“Where are we?” Jared says. “Are we driving somewhere?” Jared figures he should be more frightened about the recent turn of events, but he’s mostly a little lightheaded and a lot sleepy.

Jensen’s face colors, just for a second, and then he snorts. “My place.”

Jared sits upright so quickly that the black comes rushing back and he whimpers in panic. 

“Fucking stop moving so damn fast, huh?” Jensen says harshly, and then he’s reaching across Jared’s slumped body to strap him in, faint click of the seatbelt.

“Head back,” Jensen directs; his gaze locked on Jared at the expense of the road.

“Close your eyes,” Jensen says and Jared follows suit, mostly because he doesn’t want Jensen to get riled up if he’s disobedient.

“I’m gonna fail AP World,” Jared moans, and Jensen barks out a laugh, grit and grass in the sound. “You can’t even stand up straight, kid,” Jensen says, and he takes what’s gotta be the smoothest right Jared’s ever felt.

“We gotta get you something to eat first and then we can talk about getting you some make-up work,” Jensen says.

Jared thinks this is the most he’s ever consecutively heard Jensen say, and there’s something tight in his chest that loosens at the thought that it’s because of him.

“M’not hungry,” Jared explains, hands folded over top his ribs.

Jensen doesn’t say anything to that and Jared realizes they’re in park. He slants a peek out of his eyelids and finds Jensen staring at him, face clean.

“Stop lookin’ at me,” Jared says, and Jensen’s white-knuckled on the door handle.

“Blood sugar’s low,” Jensen says, and Jared arches an eyebrow in surprise. 

“We’re gonna go in there,” Jensen says, jerking his head in the direction of--IHOP, it looks like, “and you’re gonna drink a fucking glass of orange juice and then we’re gonna  _ talk.”  _

Jared blinks slowly and pushes himself away from his seat. Jensen looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth and Jared’s not been scared of Jensen prior to this. Not really. He understands that what he mistook for fear was general apprehension regarding the uncertainty of the situation.

This is fear. Jensen’s silent and unreadable and Jared had just better do as he asks.

“Fine,” Jared says petulantly, “if it’ll get your panties outta your ass,” Jared mutters, and Jensen’s in his space so abruptly that Jared doesn’t even try and stifle the mewl of fright that he makes at the proximity.

Jared’s chest flutters up and down into Jensen’s own and Jensen’s eyes are heavy-lidded, dark.

Jensen’s having some sort internal debate, because his jaw tics once and then Jared can breathe. Jensen slams his door hard enough to rattle the frame of his truck and Jared’s eyes well up against his will.

He’s tired and cold and he doesn’t even know where they are.

Jensen’s ripping open his door with that same single-minded attention that Jared’s starting to associate with him.

“Out,” Jensen says, and Jared swings his legs out and down automatically. He’s moving too quickly, apparently, and he topples forward, crashing into Jensen’s chest.

His legs refuse to support him on his descent and Jensen’s eyes are wide when he catches Jared, firm grip on his bird-boy body.

Jared’s face is beyond red when he settles, and Jensen’s holding him several inches above the ground, legs dangling helplessly.

Christ.

Jensen’s gonna smack the shit out of him on principle.

Jensen’s face looks different than a few seconds ago, and Jared peers closer on instinct, wants to read him better.

“Can you walk?” Jensen asks, and Jared shakes his head a little to clear it. 

“M’fine,” Jared says softly, ducking his head down from that inscrutable expression. “S’not what I asked you,” Jensen says, and Jared’s delighted to hear a note of exasperation creep into his voice. So he’s human after all.

“Probably,” Jared risks, and he has to suppress the strange urge to swing his elevated legs. “So that’s a no,” Jensen says, and it sounds like it’s not meant for Jared to comment on.

Jensen spreads his legs a little further apart and then Jared’s moving, swinging sideways without his feet ever brushing against the ground.

Jared’s on the verge of passing out again, but this time it’s due to the fact that Jensen Ackles is cradling him like a small child, Jared’s head tip-tilted against his collarbone.

“Takes care of that,” Jensen says, and  _ strides  _ into IHOP with Jared secure.

-

Jared blinks even as Jensen orders enough for three men and expects Jared to finish even half of that.

“You allergic to anything?” 

It takes Jared a second to realize that Jensen’s talking to him and not at their borderline frazzled waitress, and Jared ducks his head, hair brushing against his hands.

“Strawberry,” Jared says quietly and Jensen makes an affirmative noise and then he’s rectifying their order.

“Hey yeah, can you take the strawberry pancakes and French toast off there then?” Jensen says, and Jared flips his gaze up in surprise.

“Got all that darlin’?” Jensen says, and Jared’s mouth pops open, just a little. Jensen’s  _ grinning,  _ head flipped back to peer into the waitress’ face. 

She smiles then, slow and syrup-thick and tucks her brown hair behind her ear.

“Anything else?” She adds, and Jared’s knees lock together underneath the table.

“Jay?” Jensen says, all his undivided attention suddenly on Jared again. Jared flushes at the nickname and shakes his head mutely.

“Thanks,” Jensen says, and she’s effectively dismissed, almost tripping in her haste to do whatever it is Jensen’s commanded her to do.

“Drink up,” Jensen motions, nudging Jared’s juice closer to his hands.

Jared doesn’t want it, doesn’t like the starch-sweet taste but he’s obliging, even though his stomach coils at the thought, rebellion.

Jensen watches him closely, and his eyes are unwavering until Jared’s drained half the glass.

Jared’s panting a little with exertion, and his head lolls for a second just as Jensen’s hand connects to his cheek and stabilizes it.

“You’re shit at taking care of yourself,” Jensen states, and Jared’s affronted.

“Am not,” Jared says, and Jensen’s mouth twitches.

“I just have a lot of homework and I’ve been scared shitless you were gonna kill me in my sleep; Chad says you could like, vault over my fence and shank me in my bed,” Jared tries, and Jensen’s laughing, silent gasps that make Jared feel like an idiot.

“Fuck, I wish I was as superhuman as y’all think I am,” Jensen says, and then he releases Jared’s face to lean back on his side of the booth.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Jensen says carefully, and Jared doesn’t know which of them he’s trying to convince.

“You uh, I don’t wanna scare you,” Jensen adds, “but every time I try an’ tell you that, you pass out or some shit,” Jensen says, and Jared snorts.

“Stop being so damn scary then,” Jared says, and Jensen scoots forward, brushing into Jared’s personal space once more. 

Jensen’s about to answer but Jared spies their waitress behind Jensen’s shoulder and sits back, blinking innocently.

Jensen’s hand stutters against the table and then he’s turning that megawatt grin up to the girl (Kelsey, Jared notes distractedly).

Jensen slides the Bacon Temptation omelet in his direction, and follows it up with plain buttermilk pancakes. Jared squirms as he looks down at the spread and when he looks back up, Jensen is studying him.

Jensen’s fork is already speared in his own pancakes, syrup hanging sticky.

“Go on,” Jensen nods, and Jared’s trembling when he presses the fork in between layers of butter and starch.

“You gonna tell me about Amell?” Jensen says shortly, and Jared swallows his first bite whole, eyes wet. 

“Stephen?” Jared says stupidly, and Jensen’s cheek trembles.

“He’s--we’re friends,” Jared says, dragging his fork through brown as he cuts his meal into more manageable portions.

“He’s the first guy I ever kissed,” Jared mutters, and Jared rears back when the entire table quivers, juice and water-with-lemons vibrating in the wake.

Jensen’s not looking at him anymore, but his meal is more than halfway gone and he’s plowing through his breakfast sampler at a rate that’s mildly disturbing.

“I like him,” Jared says slowly, just for scientific purposes, and Jensen  _ does  _ look up, fork clattering down to his plate.

Jared’s dick swells in A&F boxers and his hips clip the underside of the table. Is that because of him? 

“Best start getting over that then,” Jensen says, and the tips of Jared’s ears flow pink. He raises his knife again and starts in on the omelet, spearing it neatly.

“Over what?” Jared presses; he’s never practiced moderation.

“Whatever,” Jensen says, “you think you feel about that fucker.”

Jensen’s eighty shades of cool and Jared’s mouth drops open. “You can’t--you can’t just tell me to stop liking someone,” Jared says; his voice almost at a yell.

Jensen’s finished his food at this point, and when he smiles Jared has a hard time remaining upright in his seat.

“See,” Jensen says pleasantly, “I don’t bother no one. I sit with my friends and I don’t fucking pay attention to anyone else.”

Jared nods, as Jensen seems to expect an answer. “Then, this kid tries to blow my brains out with fucking pasta,” Jared chuckles against his will, and Jensen’s mouth quirks up in satisfaction.

“He likes to  _ push  _ me,” Jensen mutters, and then louder, “I like  _ you,”  _ Jensen says, an echo. 

Jared knocks his food away and pulls his legs up to curl underneath his ass. “You don’t have to make fun of me,” Jared says, neck rouge-red.

Jensen reaches across the table and tips Jared’s head back. 

“I don’t make a lot of jokes Jay,” Jensen says, and Jared reaches for his water, if only to escape Jensen’s searching eyes.

“M’gonna take you home,” Jensen says suddenly, “and you’re gonna go to bed.” Jared’s about to protest; he’s got a fuckton of homework he hasn’t done and the fact that he missed the last two blocks of the day is sending his heartbeat spiraling awry.

“I’ll take you to the library after school tomorrow,” Jensen says negligently, already standing even though Jared’s gaping up at him like some kind of idiot savant.

“You want me to carry you again?” Jensen asks, and Jared’s too slow to answer, so when Jensen grins and ducks down, arms slipping underneath Jared’s slim legs, he can’t help the squeal he makes.

Jensen’s already dropped two twenties down on the table (probably when Jared was trying his best to re-create The Scream) and Jared’s head swims from the angle and his muscles give out on him.

Their waitress is blushing for him, and she waves at him over the disgruntled heads of the other patrons.

Jared’s being carried princess-bride style and he grimaces at the picture he must make. “Put me down,” Jared hisses, but they’re already outside and Jensen’s chest is vibrating with what Jared assumes is laughter.

“You can’t fight me if you tried,” Jensen says, and it’s not til Jensen’s got him securely buckled into the passenger seat that Jared remembers the orange juice.

-

Colleen’s sick as a dog, and Jared doesn't appreciate her germs festering all over his room. 

Jared’s parents are out on their anniversary dinner and he’s just finished the paper he has due next week on the erosion of the polar ice caps (and subsequent environmental decay). 

He's exhausted and he thinks about following Jensen’s advice (command) and going to sleep. 

He's a little hungry but he's eaten up all the Wheat Thins in the house and Jeff won't be here until tomorrow to take him to get anymore. 

Jared's wondering whether or not he can convince Reebs to drive him and Chad to Whole Foods when Colleen coughs outside of his window. 

His room is adjacent to the side roof and Colleen’s hunched over, blanket wrapped around her body so tightly that all Jared can make out is a shock of crisp blonde. 

“Fuck,” Jared mutters and he slides his window open and bangs his knee against his wall at the same time. 

“Jesus Coll, you're sick as fuck, what're you doing here?”

Colleen shuffles her way inside, coughing into her blanket sleeve on the journey in. 

She looks even worse than Jared thought previously, body pale and trembling beneath her cocoon. 

“Shut the fuck up,” she grumbles, and Jared helps her to the edge of his bed so he can squat and look at her better. 

“Chad tells me you skipped with Ackles today,” Colleen says, head bowed. 

“Well mom,” Jared says curtly, “I got--I felt sick and Jensen drove us to IHOP,” Jared says, omitting the fainting part because he doesn't want Colleen to worry. 

“IHOP?” Colleen says, narrowing grey-blue in his direction. 

“I never finish lunch because Jensen keeps dragging me off to God knows where,” Jared says, and Colleen sighs. 

“Jay, you can't just go random places with him,” Colleen admonishes, and Jared flicks her in the forehead in irritation. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Jared counters. “Jensen’s nice to me. He carried me inside today and he teases me sometimes, and--” Jared locks his mouth shut as Colleen wriggles her way from underneath her quilt and climbs right into his lap. 

She's fever-flushed and Jared thinks she might be sweating on the nape of her neck but she's grinning so wide she looks a bit feral. 

“He  _ carried you _ ?” She stage-whispers and Jared grunts as he situates himself on the floor so he's better able to bear her weight. 

“I was tired,” Jared defends and Colleen’s cackling dissolves into a hot cough. 

“You like him,” Colleen says, and Jared doesn't even bother denying it, he's in too deep as is. 

“I uh, there's no pressure,” Jared says, and Colleen presses right up against his collarbone and breathes wet into his neck. 

-

Jared’s on mile five and a half of six when Jensen’s truck rumbles up next to him. 

It scares the shit out of him but he remembers at the last instant not to break stride. 

Jensen slows to an almost-crawl and Jared watches the passenger window slide down, crest-smile of Jensen’s face. 

Jensen’s got a smudge of grease on the corner of his ear and he's so beautiful it hurts Jared to think about it. 

“Hop in,” Jensen says, “I'll drive you back to your house so you can change.”

Jared’s on run two of his day, he slept through his morning run, barely remembers lacing his Nikes and stumbling downstairs.

His mother called out to remind him to lock the door behind him and Jared thinks he might have grunted in agreement. 

Now he’s burning daylight before he’s got to knock out all of his schoolwork for the rest of the week, and Jensen’s snailing along beside him, bronze-dust forearm supported by the oh-shit handle on the passenger side.

“I uh--” Jared pauses, and Jensen’s smile dims slightly. Jensen’s not gonna understand that he’s gotta finish; Jared doesn’t do anything by halves.

“C’mon,” Jensen asks, and the truck halts. Jared comes to a reluctant stop, and his legs are jittering in place as he swipes damp bangs away from his face.

“I have like, half a mile left,” Jared says, and he pales underneath exertion because that’s not what he meant to say at all.

Jensen snorts and knocks on the passenger door in a feat of dexterity. “Athletes,” Jensen says, “you can make it up later, get in,” Jensen says. 

Jared’s glances at the clean interior, the way it’ll feel nice to have that lemon-work smell in his nose. 

He can finish it later, it’ll take six minutes.

Jared uses Jensen’s outstretched hand to hoist himself up and into the black of the truck.

He’ll even beat his own best time.

-

Jared’s parents aren’t home.

His father lives out of town more often than not, and although that means that Jared pretty much has the best he can ask for (he’s promised a new car on his sixteenth birthday) his father hasn’t been to a single club or sporting event since Jared was like, twelve.

Jared flings open the passenger door and squints up at the three floors that make up his house. 

They’ve been remodeling; Jared’s mother wants the house cream and bird-blue and Jared’s got to be careful not to scuff the finish with his constant runs over the threshold. 

“You wanna--” Jared stutters, and he’s hopping in place, so anxious and excited. 

“Wanna come in?”

Jensen’s hands are wrapped tight around his wheel, and Jared feels smaller than usual; he’s squinting up at Jensen. The sun’s higher than usual and Jared’s already sweaty and gross in equal parts. 

“I c’n wait out here,” Jensen says, infinitesimal pause that Jared wouldn’t have noticed were he not already looking for it.

Jared unsticks Nike polyester from his thigh and shrugs in that way that makes girls think he’s cute. 

Jared’s kind of shocked and mostly pleased that it seems to have much the same effect on Jensen. Jensen’s mouth thin and then quirks up like he just can’t help himself.

“Don’t do that,” Jensen says warningly, then he’s dropping down from the cab and crossing over to stand in front of Jared, arms tucked against his broad chest.

Jared tilts his neck back far enough to reach Jensen’s eyes and Jensen’s hand twitches down to cup his cheek.

“Fuck,” Jensen says, and then Jensen’s leading the way into Jared’s foyer.

“Let’s do this.”   
  



	3. Chapter 3

Jared practically trips up his own stairs in his haste to get to his room first.

It’s messy; there are socks behind his bed and his textbooks are lying open next to his desktop. His laptop’s probably dead somewhere and Jensen’s gonna think it smells like corn chips.

Jensen seems mildly amused, face curved by that half-smile that Jared likes to think is mainly reserved for him alone.

“S--sorry it’s messy,” Jared stutters, clumsy, even over his words.

Jensen snorts and sprawls out on Jared’s made bed, whistling low through his teeth.

“This is messy?” Jensen asks. “Shit kid, I ain’t seen my floor in years,” Jensen says, and Jared blinks heavily, appalled.

“How the hell do you get anything done?” Jared says, and Jensen shrugs, a move of his own.

“You ever get lost in here?” Jensen says, and Jared whirls his head around his room, confused.

“In my room?” Jared asks, and then he gets it; grins. “There’s a map on the door when you come in, but I guess you were too stupid to check it out--” Jared begins, and then Jensen’s up, hurtling toward him faster than Jared would’ve thought possible.

Jared’s back connects to the wall, shaking his signed Vader poster and his stomach.

Jensen’s eyes are lidded and blank, and they’re so focused on Jared that he feels them like an extra set of limbs.

Jared hasn’t breathed in about a minute, and he’s about to apologize, maybe squirm further back so Jensen can’t feel the slight tent of his shorts, but Jensen descends on his mouth like locusts; the plague.

Jared mewls, no less graceful way to describe it, and his hands flounder, hooking into Jensen’s t-shirt and holding on.

Jensen’s mouth is nothing short of demanding, makes quick work of the swell of Jared’s lips, bruising punishment.

Jared’s mouth stutters and falls open under the onslaught and Jensen’s tongue slides forward, teases at the broken seam between Jared’s lips.

Jared has a stupid thought that he's probably Juliet in this scenario, all hot and bothered over the thought of this dashing boy, and Jensen pulls back, hands still curved around Jared’s upper arms.

“Gotta stop,” Jensen’s saying, and Jared tilts his head back in confusion.

“What?” Jared asks, mouth swollen and heavy. Jared’s fingers flit up to test the give of his lips and Jensen’s own fingers come up alongside, callused thumb tracing Jared’s; connect-the-dots.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that,” Jensen elaborates, and Jared’s eyes widen; what the fuck is Jensen on??

“I'm not--I'm not fucking looking at you any kinda way,” Jared says, and now he's squirming to get free, color splashed crayola-cheeks.

Jensen presses his body closer, lingering strength in his grip that Jared doesn’t doubt.

Jensen’s face twists into something self-deprecating, something lank that Jared wants to examine further. He’s not about to get the chance.

“Always are,” Jensen says, and he steps back, eyes closed. “Hurry up if you don’t wanna fail,” Jensen says, and Jared hefts his bookbag up onto his desk and he’s pretty sure he ends up throwing a sock in there alongside his textbooks.

-

Jared has a specific way of organizing things.

Color-coded monstrosity, Colleen dubs it, and Chad says it’s every fuckboy’s wet dream and that Jared likes to jizz all over his notes for good luck.

Chad’s also a piece of shit, Jared thinks wearily.

Jared’s not sure what to do with Jensen at the library, considering Jensen’s just…looming. There’s not really a better adjective for the way Jensen’s shadowing him, and Jared’s pretty far past confused.

“You don’t--” Jared tries, tucks his hair behind one ear. “You don’t have to stay,” Jared says, shrugging.

“S’boring as fuck, I know.” Jared spreads his books out before him, row of transparent sticky-notes in one hand.

“You could come back when I’m done,” Jared continues, dissuaded by the dark look on Jensen’s face at the prospect of leaving.

“Told you I’d take you, didn’t I?”

Jared nods limply and settles in for the long haul, one foot tucked high under his ass.

Jensen flops down next to him, grunt of the wooden chair at his descent. Jensen stretches his legs out before him and crosses his arms, people-watching.

Jared sneaks a glance at Jensen’s profile, hard-square of his jaw where he’s not paying any attention to Jared whatsoever.

“You look like a fucking bodyguard,” Jared mutters, and Jensen’s mouth twitches.

“I happen to like your body,” Jensen says, and his eyes never even turn in Jared’s direction. Jared’s cheeks pinken on instinct and he licks the corner of his index and turns to the next page.

“Don’t say that line around Chad,” Jared says, “you’ll make him think it actually works.”

Jensen turns his head finally, blinks lazily in Jared’s direction.

“Did though, didn’t it?” Jensen’s voice swings loosely over vowels, and the hair on the back of Jared’s neck prickles. Christ, is this Jensen flirting with him?

Jared’s stomach chooses that moment to growl, and he flushes helplessly. Jensen’s look turns less hungry and more amused.

“Should’ve stopped for food before we got here,” Jensen says, but it’s directed more toward himself than to Jared.

“I’m fine,” Jared says, recalls that he has a half left and he wants to complete that before he eats dinner. He hates running on a full stomach; gives him cramps.

“S’not like I could steal you away from your fucking books anyway,” Jensen says, and Jared quiets; he’s not a part of this conversation.

“What do you want?” Jensen asks; he’s already standing, keys swinging around his index.

Jared’s eyes dart behind Jensen’s figure and watch the passing group of girls blink hazily in Jensen’s direction. One of them is in Jared’s Art class and she says something that makes the other two color prettily.

Jensen doesn’t seem to have one iota of attention to spare that doesn’t belong to Jared, and Jared ducks his head at the onslaught.

“Hey,” Jensen says, kneeling down next to Jared’s chair.

“I’ll bring it back, m’not making you come with,” Jensen says, misinterpreting Jared’s silence for apprehension.

“I just,” Jared says, hand fluttering. Fuck; he hates when he gets like this.

“You can choose,” Jared says; his head is heavy and right now he wants a five hour nap and maybe four bottles of water.

Jensen looks worried and then he’s reaching into his back pocket, shoving his phone across the table at Jared.

“Call yourself,” Jensen instructs, and Jared rolls his eyes instinctively.

“I’m 99% sure I won’t get killed at the library while you’re gone,” Jared says, but his thumbs tap the digits in regardless and Jared’s Iphone lights up automatically when Jared presses call.

Jensen makes a weird sound and pockets his phone once more.

“Then I’ll be the judge of the 1%,” Jensen says, and Jared’s laugh sticks in his throat.

-

Jared’s got the lid to an orange highlighter in his mouth, but he’s using the blue; sue him, when someone drops down into the seat on his opposite side.

Jared immediately thinks it’s Jensen, but Jensen makes less noise than that, and also, if it’s Jensen he sure isn’t swiping all of Jared’s books out of the way to shove food under his nose.

Jared lifts his head and blinks away the dizzy spell at the sudden motion.

Stephen’s settling in next to him, Grapes of Wrath open on the table before him.

“Sorry, Jare,” Stephen says apologetically, “there’s no more tables left and I gotta finish this book before tomorrow.”

Jared re-caps his highlighter and takes the opportunity to stretch.

“S’fine,” Jared mutters, and Stephen’s fingers fit into the spine of his book but he makes no move to start reading.

“I’m sorry about what happened in the cafeteria,” Stephen continues, and Jared smiles ruefully.

“Well, I’m not dead, so you’re in the clear.”

Stephen grins and then he turns fully to face Jared, eyes downcast.

“I wasn’t yelling at you, by the way,” Stephen continues, and Jared taps his pen idly against his thigh. “I was cussing Chad out,” Stephen says, and Jared laughs long, because that’s exactly what probably happened.

“He probably deserved it,” Jared acquiesces, and Stephen scrubs one hand across the nape of his neck.

“I’m just glad I got a chance to--” Stephen’s saying and then his voice stutters and Jared watches every last bit of color drain from Stephen’s face.

Jared leans forward in worry, drops one hand down on Stephen’s shoulder. “You good, man?” Jared asks, and Jared tries to remember basic CPR, thirty compressions and tilt the head back.

“Just bought a little of everything,” Jared hears and he smells the food before he sees Jensen.

Jensen deposits the non-descript plastic bag on the table and Stephen looks like he’s got a mouthful of lemons.

Jared’s suddenly hyperaware of his grip on Stephen and his hand drops wetly to his side.

There’s something humming in the air and Jensen’s face doesn’t look any differently than it normally does. Jensen’s still standing on Jared’s Stephen-free side and Stephen doesn’t look like he’s having better luck breathing.

“I’ll see you later, huh?” Jared says, solely because no one else is speaking, and Jared doesn’t think that Jensen’s gonna make a move to sit down until Stephen is in the next state.

“Tell Chad he’s an asshole,” Stephen says finally, and Jared snorts in anxiety and genuine amusement, because that’s the last thing he thought he would hear Stephen say.

Stephen closes The Grapes of Wrath around one finger and smiles at Jared before he makes a hasty exit, winding around several bookshelves for the floor below.

Jensen’s still not moving and Jared’s not exactly sure how to make him start.

“You gonna help me with any of this?” Jared tries, and Jensen walks around to where Stephen was sitting and drops down gracefully.

“I don’t like that fucking kid,” Jensen says calmly and he drags the bag toward him, pulls out styrofoam and pops it open in front of Jared like an offering.

“He’s nice,” Jared says, unfolding his leg and tugging his book closer so as to be further away from potential food mishaps.

Jensen’s fingers falter and Jared blinks up at Jensen.

“You don’t know him,” Jared adds, and Jared’s stomach turns over when he catches sight of the ribs. There’s a rack of them and what looks like potato fries alongside.

“Now how would you know,” Jensen says amicably, “who the fuck I know?”

Jared’s spine straightens and then he leans back against his chair.

“I--I don’t, I guess,” Jared stutters. “But it wasn’t his fault, about the food fight,” Jared adds unnecessarily, and Jensen looks at him for the first time since he got back.

“I texted you,” Jensen explains, looking a bit apprehensive, “but you didn’t text back, so I got these,” Jensen motions, and Jared’s stomach flips again.

“I don’t--” Jared says, and Jensen’s eyes darken.

“You don’t like ribs, do you?”

Jared sucks his lower lip in his mouth and shakes his head. Jensen makes an irritated sound and Jared clasps his hands together under the table and drops his eyes.

“Hey,” Jensen says, dragging his chair closer to Jared’s. “Hey sweetheart, look at me,” Jensen whispers, and Jared’s eyes snap up at the endearment.

“I don’t care that you don’t want it,” Jensen explains, “I just wish I’da known before I bought the damn meal,” Jensen says, pink tinge on his cheeks.

“You’re hungry and I didn’t even--” Jensen snorts, “I didn’t even get you anything you like.”

Jared fumbles with his Iphone and it winks open, two missed calls and three texts, all from Jensen.

“It’s fine,” Jared says softly, and Jensen arches an eyebrow in disbelief. “No, really,” Jared laughs. “I got all kinds of shit back at home,” Jared adds, and Jensen relaxes, arms crossed.

“You can have my fries,” Jensen says on an afterthought, and Jared blinks twice and reaches forward.

-

Colleen laughs like the Devil is watching when Jared informs her that Brian wants to sweet talk her and dance by candlelight, and then her face flushes and Chad falls backwards out of his swing.

“You wanna be Mrs. Simmons,” Jared says, and he drags his legs through dirt chips and sends himself sailing through the sky.

Colleen reaches out to punch him, but she connects with empty air because Jared’s already high-flying.

“You wanna have Jensen’s ass-babies,” Colleen spits back, and Chad shudders back down to the Earth in a fit of laughter because Colleen does NOT talk like that. Not ever.

“Least my kids’ll be pretty!” Jared screams and he tips higher into the clouds, blood-rush screaming to the forefront of his mind.

His vision blurs out of focus at the altitude and panic is the last thing he feels right before his grip on the chains loosen and he tumbles back down to Earth.

-

“You call his mother?” Jared hears, and then Chad’s voice, snide but controlled.

“Yeah, cause I want Mrs. P to never let him leave the fucking house again,” Chad hisses. “Jared’s always been like this,” Chad explains.

“S’worse than it’s ever been,” Colleen adds, and Jared hates the wet sound of her voice.

“I think--” Colleen says, and then she whimpers and Chad pipes up.

“You’re the only person we could think of,” Chad admits.

“If one of us takes him home our parents’ll call his mom like that,” Chad says, snapping his fingers, and Jared feels the familiar touch of Chad’s hand across his brow.

“Last time this happened she drove him to and from school for like, a month,” Chad says, and Jared’s gonna give him so much shit about the gravelly quality of his voice, right around the time that Jared can stand upright on his own again.

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s what he fucking needs,” Jared hears, and that’s when he places the voice. They called Jensen?

“She won’t let him fucking see _you,_ that’s for damn sure,” Chad says, voice rising, and Colleen clears her throat, hard.

“What do you need me to do?”

Jared’s working his way to sitting up and telling everyone he’s just fine, thanks, but his limbs are beyond uncooperative and he feels like his heart’s about to beat right out of his chest.

“Just--look, Coll already texted his mom from his phone and told her that he’s spending the night at her house.” Colleen’s suspiciously quiet and Chad’s voice has taken on that hard and fast line that kind of scares, while at the same time, impresses Jared.

“I don’t fucking trust you,” Chad says, and Colleen slaps him, or at least that’s what it sounds like to Jared.

“Can you just take him home, bring him back to my place tomorrow morning?” Colleen’s voice is tinny and Jared’s body is moving abruptly.

Jared makes some kind of sound, a whine, and he senses Chad get closer.

“He’s waking up,” Chad announces; he should know; he’s seen it often enough.

“Is there anything--” Jensen pauses, flustered. “Do I need to get him any shit or like, s’he supposed to sleep propped up or something--”

Colleen huffs out a laugh and Jared twitches in Jensen’s arms, head pillowed against Jensen’s collarbone.

“Just bring him back in one piece and I’ll call it even.”

Jared’s head swings dangerously as Jensen turns, and Jared focuses 99% of his energy into opening his eyes.

“Shit,” Jared says, dangerously slurred, and Jensen almost stutters to a stop before he moves again, strides behind his truck bed and manages to brace Jared’s body against the passenger door as he tugs the handle open.

“Lemme--lemme go,” Jared says, and he’s pretty sure he’s struggling but Jensen doesn’t say a word, just buckles him in effortlessly and closes the door so quiet Jared’s not sure it was ever really open to begin with.

“I’m fine,” Jared says, so small that he doesn’t think he’s got a chance in Hell of Jensen hearing, much less believing him.

Stoplights are winking past, casting Jensen’s profile into sharp relief. His jawline is so taut that it looks like razor-wire, and when Jared gathers his strength to sit upright in the seat, Jensen’s cheek clicks minutely.

“Be still.”

Jared’s stomach swoops and he tries to summon up a vestige of anger that’ll get Jensen to listen to him.

“I dunno why they called you,” Jared says quietly. “M’sorry you gotta be here, but I’m really fine. You can take me back to my place.”

“Something’s wrong.”

Jared blinks immediately, squirms so that his spine touches the back of the seat and peers out of the window.

The night looks innocent enough; it’s way later than he’d usually be allowed out, and he presses four fingertips to the glass in order to see whether or not things are any different with the sudden advent of night.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Jensen says, and Jared whips his head around too quickly and white dances at the corner of his eyes.

“M’not fucking around here,” Jensen says, voice tinged-desperate. “I don’t know why--why I’m here right now, but you’re about to stop bullshittin’ me.”

Jared’s working himself up for a fight, but he doubles over instead; head pulsating. He can’t help the whimper that tumbles free and Jensen jerks the wheel to the right and they’re shuddering to a halt on the side of the road.

“Jared. Jared, you gotta look at me.” Jensen’s voice is low-raw and Jared thinks it sounds like fissured glass.

“Baby,” Jensen says, and Jared mewls, full-bodied, and Jensen’s hands are unbuckling the seatbelt and he’s dragging Jared over the gearshift and into his lap at a speed which makes Jared lightheaded again.

“It’s fine; I’m okay, it’s fine,” Jared repeats, over and over again, and he slings his arms around Jensen’s neck as best he can and Jensen presses his cheek into the flyaway tufts of Jared’s hair.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S hook ya girl up with THEORIES TIME; if anyone is interested!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> violence and triggering subject matter below (or, better yet, the chapter where you guys find out wtf is up)

Jensen’s bed smells like steel and freshly cut wood.

His bed is huge, bigger than a King, Jared surmises, and Jared’s slap in the center.

He’s in an oversized shirt that scents of lemon-tar and Jensen, and when he rolls over there’s still bed remaining.

The room is shrouded in darkness; there’s a sheet covering the window, and Jared quickly realizes there’s more mattress than room.

The walls are wood paneled and stark, except for a small corner that’s taped with Megadeth and Metallica, accordingly.

Jared stands, tottering as he does so, and his stomach growls shrilly.

Jared wraps both arms around his waist and looks down at black-ankle socks; he’s been freed of his jeans, then.

Jared flushes so heavy that he has to grab onto the door for support as he cracks it open, just a hint.

Jensen’s sitting at what looks like half a dining room table, and it’s about three feet away from the stove.

There’s a plate of eggs, toast and bacon, and what looks like melted cheese steaming on top of the bread.

Jensen’s sitting like the Godfather, hands folded on the table, and Jared considers turning right back around and pretending he never woke up at all.

“Still hot,” Jensen says shortly, and Jared grimaces. 

Still angry then.

Jared pads into the kitchen, soft footfalls on cotton, and the chair squeaks loudly as he drags it away from the table.

He wants to look around Jensen’s house but he doesn’t want to be rude. Jensen’s also staring him down, eyes inscrutable, and Jared doesn’t know what he wants.

“C’mon then,” Jensen says, nudging the plate toward Jared.

“I don’t--m’fine,” Jared mutters, and then Jensen’s standing, plate swept up in his hand. Jared watches, horrified, as cream sails through the air and connects with the wall.

Ceramic shatters, congealing around grease and sun-yellow and Jared winces and ducks, covers his ears with his forearms.

“Stop fucking  _ lying  _ to me!”

Jensen’s voice is louder than Jared’s ever heard it and Jared shudders in place. His head is still bowed and when Jensen stalks toward him, Jared’s pretty close to crying.

Jensen’s never got any emotions at all past fond amusement for Jared, and now he’s raging, bent brutal over Jared’s hunched form.

“You wanna tell me?” Jensen says, voice cool-edges again, “or you want me to guess?”

Jared looks up and Jensen’s trembling, arms bunched by his sides and Jared can’t even find the lawn of Jensen’s eyes; they’re entirely obsidian.

“You’re not eating.”

The words hit duller than Jared imagined they would and his stomach rumbles on cue, all twisted underneath his arms.

“You won’t eat and you’re gonna goddamn die,” Jensen goes on, and Jared’s neck snaps up because that’s not true.

“I fucking eat,” Jared spits, “and I’m  _ fine, _ ” Jared adds.

“I’m a runner,” Jared says, extra emphasis on the definition. “I gotta--I gotta watch what I eat.” Jared doesn’t release his middle but he does make a valiant attempt to peer up at Jensen’s face.

“You don’t get it,” Jared says, and Jensen’s laughing, full-bodied exclamation the likes of which Jared’s never heard before.

Jensen’s hand flutters out, so sharp and quick that Jared hears the air bend around it, and then it snaps back down to Jensen’s side in the same instant.

The whites of Jensen’s eyes are visible where there was a torrent of black, and Jensen’s breathing heavily; he’s frightened.

“You can lie to everyone else,” Jensen says, and his voice has tipped back into neutrality, but it’s still bridled with carefully checked rage, “but you’re not gonna be doin’ that shit with me.”

-

Jensen’s silent.

It’s not his normal shade of careful ambivalence, and Jared can see the discoloration of it.

Jensen’s made him a second plate, covered in tinfoil, and it’s watching Jared, winking shiny across the room and Jared’s legs curl up tight underneath him.

He’s late.

He’s late for studying and his run and his books and he’s supposed to go see Chad today and Jensen’s just staring at him, unreadable and broad, arms crossed over his chest.

“M’not gonna eat that,” Jared says calmly.

Jensen’s jaw tics and Jared remembers how off kilter Jensen just became, louder words and bruises.

“I’m gonna--Jensen, I’m gonna be late,” Jared says, and his mouth quirks downward in panic. “M’already late. Please, just take me home.”

Jared digs two fingers into his upper arm and Jensen hasn’t responded in the last hour and Jared’s foot jitters on the underside of the table.

His knee slaps wood so hard that he lets out a whine of pain and Jensen’s in motion, crosses over and kneels by Jared’s side, linoleum cool underneath his skin.

“Where,” Jensen says, voice grated through and through.

Jared’s hand quakes and he points to his right kneecap, blossom-red after impact.

“Keep still,” Jensen says, and Jared shivers when Jensen drops one warm palm on top, momentarily stilling the motion.

Jensen’s of equal height right now and Jared glances at the wire of green surrounding Jensen’s pupils. Jared’s heart clips faster than before and he sucks his lower lip right into his mouth.

Jensen’s moving, breakneck pace that Jared can’t seem to follow with mortal vision, and Jensen’s fingers pinch warm at Jared’s chin and pry his lip loose, audible snick.

“C’mere, c’mere, lemme see you,” Jensen breathes and Jared’s lashes flutter doe-like and he presses forward, slings his arms around Jensen’s neck.

Jensen’s hand moves from knee to the small of Jared’s back and then Jared’s ass lifts from wood and Jensen’s hands snake underneath his thighs.

Jared’s aware of being lifted but he’s dizzy, eyes colorless, and he slumps forward against Jensen’s shoulder as Jensen turns them in the air.

“Jesus,” Jensen’s saying, connected to Jared’s mouth by air-words and Jared’s trembling; it’s so cold that it feels like knives are splayed across his flesh and Jensen’s so damn warm.

“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,” Jensen repeats, “I gotta take you home.” 

Jared nods, but his ankles are locked around the small of Jensen’s back and Jensen’s dull fingertips are bleeding through Jared’s shirt (the one Jensen dressed him in) and no one is moving.

“You gotta eat it--you need, c’mon Jared, baby, look at me,” Jensen says in a rush, and Jared’s head’s so slow but he glances up so he can see Jensen regardless.

“C’n you,” Jensen stutters, and Jensen slots his mouth over Jared’s again and licks deep, slip-slides his tongue over the xylophone of Jared’s roof-mouth and sucks down on Jared’s tongue like he’s the hungry one.

Jared makes pathetic noises that spill into Jensen’s aching mouth and Jensen nibbles on his lower lip before disengaging, head coming to rest on Jared’s forehead.

“Just--can you eat a coupla bites for me, huh?” Jensen breathes the words out slow and Jared doesn’t mean to but he nods his acquiescence. 

-

Jeff comes home the following day. 

Jared’s been up since five; he’s got to make up for the other day and he needs new running shoes, his old ones send shockwaves of pain shooting up his ankles and asphalt is unforgiving.

He lets himself in quietly; tries to avoid Jeff but his brother is yawning his way through Cinnamon Toast Crunch, heavy-slow tinkle against ceramic.

“Jay?” Jeff’s voice is raspy and he clears it before trying again. “Ran without me?” Jeff says, humor and mild accusation twined together.

“Didn’t finish yesterday,” Jared says, doesn’t bother sitting down because he’s just gonna have to get back up and go shower.

Jeff hands him a glass of water and maneuvers around Jared so that he can grab the milk. 

“Really,” Jeff says, disbelieving. “Did Mom die or something?” Jared snorts and kicks his sneakers off, shins burning with every twitch of movement.

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart,” Jared mimics, spot on approximation of their mother.

Jeff snorts and dips his head, bangs curling into half-shuttered eyes. “You stick to it, Jared,” Jeff adds, “on the team in college, just like Jeff, huh?” 

Jared laughs, high and bright, and nods at his brother.

“She asleep?” Jared asks, and Jeff grunts in response. “She was gonna make breakfast, but Dad just got home last night and I don’t want her to wake up early on my account.” 

Jared braces himself to stand and Jeff motions toward the cabinets.

“Figured we could feed ourselves,” Jeff says, mouth quirked up. “You want an everything omelette?”

Jeff’s getting loud and Jared thinks about Jensen,

_ Coupla bites _

And his stomach twists up so violently that he hunches over in disgust.

“Hey,” Jeff says, skirting from around granite, eyes hooded. “You okay? You good, bro?”

Jared waves a hand in his brother’s direction. “I’m fine, shit,” Jared says, and Jeff just blinks at him. “M’gonna take a quick nap,” Jared says, tempers his words with a smile.

“Coll and Chad wanna see you, and I think Chase is back for break too,” Jared says, instantly regretting the mention of Chad’s older brother, so like Jared’s best friend in mannerism and disregard.

Of course, Jeff lights up like a star and Jared barely suppresses a groan. 

Chase goes to VTech and he and Jeff don’t see one another nearly as often as they used to. Jeff’s shit at communication at the best of times and Jared’s pretty much the only reason he keeps in contact with people from back home.

“You look like shit,” Jeff says helpfully, and Jared wobbles away from the table on his old-man limbs.

“Hey, hey,” Jeff says on an afterthought, and Jared slaps a palm against teal and plaster and turns halfway.

“Is Reebs still around?” Jeff asks, voice teasing.

“Oh, c’mon, man, don’t be like that, come back,” Jeff says. “She’s been talking about me, right?”

-

“You don’t think they’ll be pissed if I show up, right?”

Jared jabs his thumb at the paper and Stephen hunches further over at Jared’s desk and highlights furiously.

“My brother’s gonna be shitfaced,” Jared says, contemplates moving over to the second desk in his room but he always feels like he’s using Chad’s property when he does that.

“What’s that supposed to mean” Stephen says, glancing up from the index card like he’s suddenly gone stupid.

Jared likes Stephen, probably not as much as Stephen used to like him, but he hates when the guy is more dense than a plank of wood.

“It means you could come covered in green paint and with three tits like Star Trek and Jeff would probably just ask if he could suck on one of ‘em,” Jared says in exasperation, and Stephen chortles, features coloring softly.

“Got it,” Stephen says. 

“I’ll make sure to get paint everywhere, then,” Stephen adds, and it’s Jared’s turn to laugh.

Jared leans over Stephen to flip to the next page and Stephen graciously stands so Jared can take his seat.

Jared settles down, flicking on the lamp above his head.

They’re gonna ace this test tomorrow, and then Jeff is throwing himself a homecoming party, even though he’s only back for fall break and he’ll be dipping out soon enough.

“Make sure it looks authentic,” Jared says absently, pen cap tucked in between his teeth.

Stephen doesn’t reply and it’s for that reason that Jared glances up, mouth a rosebud in his confusion.

Stephen’s got one palm splayed out next to Jared’s textbook and his fingers are twitch-tapping next to the spine.

“Jared,” Stephen says firmly, and Jared’s not an idiot, not as oblivious as he sometimes presents himself. 

Jensen also hasn’t texted him in a week and Jared really wanted to introduce him to Jeff, really wanted to maybe sit down with Jensen, think about thinking about opening his mouth wide on starch and grease.

Jared’s concave now and he blinks dizzily at the length of time he’s been staring up at Stephen.

Jared drops the cap down into his hand and bites his lower lip.

“I’ll help you with your boob job, man,” Jared tries lamely, “no reason to butter me up--” but Stephen bends low, smooth in the way he knows how to be when he’s not over thinking the obvious.

Jared’s mouth falls slack and Stephen snakes in, one hand coming up to cradle Jared’s chin on a caress.

Jared’s tired, shudders on contact and Stephen groans into his split mouth with abandon.

Stephen pulls back just as suddenly, hot air ghosting across Jared’s still-parted lips. 

“Now you tell me,” Stephen says, recklessly, Jared thinks, “who I need to look out for because of that.”

-

It’s loud.

Jared’s not complaining; he happens to like parties, when they’re well-done, and he and Chad don’t exactly make the best hosts on their own.

Jared’s done all his homework, locked himself in his room so he can’t hear Jeff on the phone, trying to organize a kegger when all he has is his fake and two older connections in town.

So now; it’s loud.

Jared’s looking for Chad, dodges around Rachel Patterson making out with her decidedly  _ not  _ boyfriend, and laments that Colleen isn’t here yet to keep better tabs on the both of them.

Jared thinks about her instituting the buddy-rule, and he laughs to himself.

He’s a little drunk; three cups of party juice that Jeff had allowed him to have. It’s swimming in his blank stomach and Jared’s grabbing onto the wall and sleeves at every available opportunity.

Jared rounds the corner to his kitchen a little fast and blinks away the spider criss-cross of lights to focus  on the low hang of his mother’s spice rack.

“Hey, kid!” Jared hears, and he recognizes one of his brother’s friends, Drake something; music’s too loud for Jared to quite make his last name out in his own head.

Jared slaps a palm out against plaster to hold himself steady and misses.

Jared can feel himself sliding, and Drake curses and vaults around the counter to prop him up.

“Brother’s looking everywhere for him,” Drake says to someone who isn’t Jared, and Jared leans into Drake’s brawn instinctively before he remembers it’s not Jensen.

“Jared, Jay,” Drake says, and Jared looks up to meet the concerned brown of Drake’s glassy eyes.

“Wanna hang out with me?” Drake asks, one hand slung around Jared’s waist. “Til your brother comes back,” Drake rectifies, and Jared grins.

“You almost dropped the keg,” Jared accuses, and Drake laughs, clean line of porcelain that Jared kind of wants to see again.

Fuck Jensen, then. Jared’s legs twitches against the ground and sends a phantom ache of pain lancing up his leg.

“Hey,” Drake says, and he glances around him before making, what seems to Jared, a split second decision. He curls two palms around Jared’s middle and lifts, stumbles for a second before he’s got Jared’s ass split open on Jared’s mom’s counter.

Jared glances at the dangle of his legs and the immediate release of pain due to the elevation.

Drake rests palms on the outside of Jared’s waist and he grunts in satisfaction.

“I need to find my Chad,” Jared says firmly, remembering, and tries to squirm his way down to the floor. The impact is gonna jar his knees but he can hear Chad whooping along to All Me, and the louder Chad gets when listening to Drake just means problems for Jared later.

“I’ll get him,” Drake says, mouth quirking up, and Jared reaches one hand out to nudge at Drake’s canines before he can stop himself.

Drake’s eyes flicker wide, just for a second, and Jared’s palm slaps limply against his thigh.

“You--” Drake stutters, and Jared tries to blink his eyes free of haze so he can really focus. Drake’s taller than him, almost as tall as Jensen, Jared thinks.

Drake’s hair is darker and his eyes are slanted so careful that Jared makes to scramble back from the swelter of them.

“Stay here,” Drake says, “stay right here til I get back. M’gonna get your friend,” Drake says, and there’s a snick when Drake pulls free and Jared feels oxygen returned to deprived limbs.

Jared leans back, braces his weight against his palms and ignores the heavy sound of making out that’s going on behind him.

Jeff’s gonna come find him and Drake’ll be right back with Chad, and there’s no reason to think about Jensen, especially since Jensen hasn’t bothered to text him whatsoever.

Jared’s tears hitch in his throat and he wants another drink.

He’s been preparing all week for this, extra time on his run because it’s okay to want to do this. Jared grinds his fists into his eyes and breathes deep.

He just wants to hang out with his brother.

Jared nudges his ass closer to the edge of the countertop and braces himself for the fall when his entire body suddenly slides backwards until he almost topples off the other side.

Jared yelps but then there’s a dry palm around his wrist and he’s pulled straight, head flopping dangerously on his weakened neck.

“This the kind of shit that happens when I leave you alone.” Jensen says, and it’s not a question, so Jared doesn’t bother with attempting an answer.

“Leggo ‘a me,” Jared says, tripping over every vowel in his repertoire. “M’supposed to stay here,” he adds, and Jensen’s hand locks further.

“I can see that,” Jensen says strangely, and Jared peeks up at Jensen for his first good look this evening. 

Jensen’s still in a leather jacket, even though Jared knows for a fact that it’s incineration-level hot in here. Jensen’s got a thick silver ring on his thumb and it’s cooling and restrictive against his skin.

“How much you drank?” Jensen asks, and Jared’s flesh prickles when he realizes that this requires an answer.

“M’not drunk; I had th--three cups,” Jared says, hiccuping once. Things like that usually make Jensen go easy on him, but now Jensen’s eyes darken further, and he’s tugging Jared closer until Jared’s got to brace his palms on familiar-Jensen smell.

“You eat?” Jensen says this so quietly that Jared has to strain to hear it over the heavy bass of what sounds like Eminem’s entire early 2000’s discography.

“Stop it, stop it,” Jared says, sweat-damp hair flicking into his eyelids.

Jensen presses both of Jared’s wrists into one palm and flexes them tight, securing Jared in the grip.

“Two options, Jared,” Jensen says. “Yes or no.”

Jared’s mouth pops open to tell Jensen to fuck off and never come back, or probably, ‘I’m so sorry--I  _ can’t,” _

But then Jensen’s stiffening, body even more boarded up than it’s been this entire time.

“You might hafta come get your boy, Jared; he’s  _ killing _ Without Me,” Drake says, turning sideways to fit his broad body through the crush of people loitering at the kitchen entrance.

Jensen’s still facing Jared and his head is now bowed. Jared follows the slow click of Jensen’s pulse and then his eyes slide further down, watch the tendons on Jensen’s palms flex minutely.

Jared’s tongue is thick and lazy when he tries to speak, grasps at the fingers that are loosening their clutch.

“Jensen,” Jared says, eyes widening past the heavy grip of alcohol.

Jensen lifts his head as Drake’s voice lowers and then tapers off, and Jared can’t see Drake’s expression past Jensen’s broad shoulders.

He knows what it must look like; Jensen nestled between the welcoming splay of Jared’s legs; Jared’s wrists caught up in Jensen’s bruised hand.

“Remember,” Jensen says, and there’s something blood-viscous hovering in his tone, stance of his body. Jared’s not stupid but he still realizes it too late, doesn’t see Jensen spreading his legs farther apart, releasing Jared entirely.

“Stay right  _ here  _ til I get back,” Jensen says, and Jared’s cry gurgles in his mouth because Jensen whirls around and his arm is already reared back, smashing into the side of Drake’s head with the type of force Jared’s only ever seen in action movies.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, hey again, guys. So now you know that Jared's suffering from a (pretty medically crippling, but we'll get back to that) ED at this time, and irl you guys (obvs) know it's not all sunshine and roses, and I don't want to gloss over that fact. Anywho, I WOULD LOVEEEEE to hear your thoughts on this reveal b/c I'm very stressed for my cinnamon roll Jared (shout out to my child scarletribbons) and you guys are legit the only reason this fic saw the light of day, so.


	5. Chapter 5

Jared’s uncoordinated; his right shin is pulsating in time with the beat of the bass and he scrambles to get both legs underneath him so he can climb down from granite.

“Jensen!” Jared screams, but his voice isn’t nearly loud enough to penetrate.

Drake’s not expecting the onslaught, and he’s already down on one knee, right hand pressed to his temple. Jared follows the blush-bruise spreading across his skin and Jensen’s not even paused.

Jensen lunges forward again, knocks Drake’s hand free and delivers a volley of uppercuts that have Jared’s eyes welling up in fear.

Drake’s left knee slaps against linoleum to join the other and he brings heavy arms up to protect his face.

Jensen’s right fist is blossomed with blood, split knuckles and Drake is splattering Jared’s mother’s floor, lemon pinesol and antiseptic.

Jensen’s fist uncurls and he reaches down for a tangle of Drake’s hair, drags his neck back and up.

Jared takes the opportunity to hop to the floor, and he bites down on his lower lip in order to staunch the mewl of pain that threatens to escape.

Drake’s face is thick with contusions and he’s gasping out of his mouth like he can’t quite remember how to breathe.

“C’mon man, c’mon,” Drake spits around claret, “what the fuck, man,” he cries, face twitching with ache.

Jensen’s still silent but Jared pushes his body in between Jensen’s violence and Drake and Jensen’s hand quivers in confusion.

“Leave him alone, Jensen, please,” Jared says, tips his head back until he can properly attempt to meet Jensen’s eyes.

“Let him go, huh?” Jared prompts, curls one hand out to touch Jensen’s jacket. Jensen flinches backwards and that puts him just out of Drake’s range.

“What the fuck? What the fucking fuck is goin’ on here?!” Jared sighs in equal parts relief and annoyance at Jeff deciding that now is the proper time to finally show up, and Jared sways a little on unsteady feet.

Drake’s hand hooks around Jared’s ankle in support and Jeff swings into view, shirt off and two solo cups clutched in both hands.

“What the fuck you doin’ to my brother, Ackles?” Jeff bellows, unnecessary sound an added agitation.

Jensen’s fist is still sniper-cocked and Jared’s t-shirt clings to his skin in sweaty places, divot in his collarbone visible as he heaves for breath.

“Drake--what the--fuck, man, you okay?” Jeff’s drunk and bewildered and Jared’s pretty much in the same boat, but the only difference is that he knows Jensen.

“Jensen,” Jared says, and Jeff’s moving to stand between the two of them, but then Jensen’s speaking, mouth a sober line in the black.

“Get your motherfucking hands off of him, or so help me God,” Jensen says, and Jared can’t read his face because there’s nothing of Jensen in it.

Jeff allows the cups to clatter to the ground and they splash open, dousing Jared’s ankles and Drake’s fingertips, which are slowly uncurling from around the heat of Jared’s forbidden skin.

“Get the fuck outta my house,” Jeff says, voice teetering on anger and blackout. Jeff steps closer to Jensen’s chest and knocks him back a step, barely managed aggression.

“Don’t fucking--leave my fucking brother alone,” Jeff says, and Jensen’s not even looking at Jeff; his eyes are focused behind Jeff’s threats, to where Jared’s still standing in front of Drake, even as Drake is clambering slowly to his feet.

“Stop it, Jeff,” Jared says, and he stalks forward, gum-stick of denim to flesh.

Drake seems to have regained his equilibrium because he puts himself right in front of Jared and now there’s a fucking  _ queue  _ in front of he and Jensen.

Jared’s heart clatters against his chest and Jared presses a palm to the neck-break pace of it.

Jensen’s still not speaking and that hell-spark of his eyes hasn’t diminished whatsoever. 

He doesn’t trouble with Jared’s brother, steps almost respectfully around him, even though Jeff’s the only one who’s bothered to lay hands on him this whole time.

Jensen comes to a halt in front of Drake, eyes lowered down to his not-inconsiderable height.

“I’m not gonna need to tell you again,” Jensen says, and his mouth cracks open on the first grin that Jared’s seen tonight.

-

“So what, he just beat homedude to death?” Chad crams fourteen gummy bears in his mouth at once and leers sardonically over at Jared.

He tosses the bag into Jared’s lap and Jared drops it neatly beside him.

“He’s not dead you dumbass,” Jared says, and Colleen shoves her way between the two of them and Jared groans; his bed is not cut out for this kind of action.

“I know you like him Jay,” Colleen begins unhelpfully, and Chad groans and simultaneously chokes on a member of the Berenstein family.

“That’s kinda--Jared, that’s fucking scary,” Colleen says, and Chad rolls his eyes so hard that Jared catches a headache by proximity.

“He didn’t--” Jared flounders, “he didn’t kill him; s’not like Chad’s saying.”

Colleen leans over the bed in a half-assed effort to find Palpatine, even though it’s basically Jeff’s cat and doesn’t ever deign to grace Jared with his presence when Jeff’s around or Colleen’s not.

“He touch you?” She asks, and Jared snorts. 

“Not even a hello kiss,” Jared says bitterly and Chad lobs three separate bears at him. “Dude help me; I don’t want them to pump my stomach and find this,” Chad groans, and Jared throws the candy back with more force than he needs.

“I don’t fucking want any,” Jared spits, more sharply than he intended, and Chad glances strangely at him.

“Why not,” Chad asks, and Jared’s so floored that he almost forgets to answer. He glances down at Colleen and waits for her to smack Chad and tell him to leave Jared alone, but Colleen crosses her legs under her ass and waits.

“Not hungry,” Jared says, fail-safe, and his skin is starting to itch tight on his skin.

“You don’t eat gummy bears because you’re hungry, you ass,” Chad says slowly, and Jared scrambles up from the bed, wildly fearful that somehow Chad’s gonna toss a handful down his throat and Jared’s already stressed; he’s already brutal and he doesn’t think he can handle this bullshit.

“I don’t  _ want any, so leave me the fuck alone, huh?”  _ Jared hisses, and Chad’s upright, bag jostled next to Colleen’s thigh.

Colleen looks like this was a bad idea and she ties her hair up into a messy blonde bun before she makes to stand.

“What the fuck’s your problem Jared?” Chad says, stepping so close to Jared’s space that their noses could touch.

“Don’t have one except the fact that you’re in my fucking face right now,” Jared says, and Colleen’s unsuccessfully attempting to wedge her way between the two of them.

“You think--you think we don’t see you but we do, man,” Chad says, and he sounds less angry and more afraid.

“Chad, let it go,” Colleen says, cheeks pinked with exertion. “He doesn’t--he’s not gonna talk about it with us.”

Jared reels away from the both of them in disgust.

“What, exactly, am I supposed to be talkin’ about?” Jared’s sweating hot and his heart aches in that needle-driven way.

“You--you know what the fuck we need to talk about,” Chad says, face hot and sweaty and Jared can’t decide whether to laugh or cry.

“I’m not fucking dealing with this,” Jared says, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Jeff’s already pissed as shit and I don’t wanna deal with this on top of that.”

Jared hates the words as soon as they leave his mouth, and Colleen looks akin to how Jared imagines she would if he smacked her in the face.

“Okay then,” Colleen says thickly, “we’ll leave you alone.”

Colleen’s the first to shove past him, shoulder clipping his elbow on her way out, and Palpatine chooses that moment to come slinking from underneath Jared’s bed like the manipulative shit he is.

Colleen steps over him gracefully, Converse catching in the black of his fur, and Jared can hear the rush of his own blood.

Chad looks at him pitifully, eyes luminous in his tanned face. His hair is sticking up in every direction from rolling around on Jared’s bed, and Jared wants him back, wants him to toss candy into the crevices of Jared’s room.

“I’m--I didn’t mean it like that,” Jared says helplessly, and his stomach sudders, makes a loud sort of moan that widens Chad’s eyes.

“I’ll--I’ll talk to her man,” Chad says, and he reaches toward Jared and drags him in by the nape of the neck.

“You’re such a fuckhead,” Chad whispers in Jared’s ear, hot-sweet breath mingling with Jared’s hair. “You’re like, the corner of a Middle Ages latrine,” Chad says as he makes to follow Colleen. “Like, the King took a piss in your outhouse during a stop on his southern campaign and he fucking urinated on your ass,” Chad continues, and Jared’s laugh gurgles like tears.

-

Jared’s ignored three separate texts from Stephen because he doesn’t want to deal with Stephen’s apologies over not being able to make it to the party, or Stephen’s apparently renewed feelings for him.

Jared’s bent over his textbooks and he’s feeling so damn sick he’s borderline about to cry. 

He’s been running on E since this weekend, four wheat thins and one glass of milk because Jared knows he’s crazy and he’s got to keep his bone density up and he could laugh himself into a coma because none of it makes any rational sense.

He can’t see straight enough to highlight what he needs to study for Chem and his hand fumbles his phone open in desperation.

Jensen’s number winks up at him, two calls since this weekend and one blank text, and Jared remembers Jeff’s warning before he packed up for school.

_ Don’t fucking talk to him Jared, I’m serious. I’m coming home again next weekend _

But Jared’s  _ tired  _ and he’s pressing Jensen’s number before he can talk himself out of it.

Jensen’s on the other end halfway during the first and second ring and Jared’s unable to actually stand to remove himself from the library. And he’s on the quiet floor.

Jared’s laughing but it’s coming out like tears and his pages are growing damp.

“Where are you,” Jensen says, and Jared hiccups weakly and tries to unstick his cheek from slippery-textbook paper.

There’s a loud clang on the other end of the line and then Jared quickly drags his phone volume lower when something sounds like yelling.

“The fuck--Christ--!” Jared catches, and then a door slams and it’s blessedly silent.

“Jared.” Jensen says it like a sentence and Jared tries to focus. 

“You gotta tell me where you’re at, baby,” Jensen says, and Jared can hear the growl of Jensen’s truck in the background. 

“Take a wild guess,” Jared jokes, voice a whisper that couldn’t reach normal levels even if he tried.

Jensen doesn’t laugh, though, and Jared’s chest tightens in preemptive stress. “This is the last time,” Jensen says, and Jared’s too out of it to even worry about what Jensen means by that.

“Stay awake!” Jensen barks, and Jared blinks his eyes back to half-mast. 

“You with me?” Jensen says, softer, and Jared gurgles something unintelligible into his phone. He wants to tell Jensen that his mother’s having a dinner party tomorrow night in honor of his dad and he’s expected to attend and participate, but it’s lost in the death rattle of his own body.

Jared’s not exactly sure what Jensen expects him to do when he gets here, besides.

-

As it turns out, Jensen’s pragmatic, and doesn’t say anything at all.

He tumbles Jared’s books into his backpack with an organized efficiency that Jared didn’t think he’d ever witness outside of himself, and then he’s hoisting Jared up, one hand cradled on the back of Jared’s head.

Jared can’t bring his arms up to cling and so Jensen does that for him too, and Jared’s arms hang spineless around the taut line of Jensen’s neck.

No one is at the library this early, even on a Sunday, and Jared’s mother had dropped him off and probably attributed his lethargy to exhaustion.

Jared’s bookbag is across Jensen’s back and Jared doesn’t have the energy required to laugh at the predicament he’s in.

His heart is too heavy for his body and every breath he takes makes a death-rattle that Jensen’s got to be able to feel.

Jensen doesn’t look at him, even as he makes sure that Jared is securely buckled, and Jared’s head lolls against the headrest.

“Think up a story for your mom, alright?” Jensen says, veering into traffic at speeds that would cause Jared mild unease if he were able to sit up straight.

Jared makes some kind of noise and Jensen’s hand comes up to cradle Jared’s cheek, one eye on the road and the other fixated on Jared.

Jared’s not making a pretty picture, washed-out slate of his skin, and he wants to curl up but he’s not got the strength to apply to that.

“Jared,” Jensen says, voice tight. “Stay up, okay?” 

Jared’s sure he nods, or something, but he yelps in pain when Jensen’s hand connects to his thigh with a heavy squeeze.

“I swear to fucking  _ God _ ,” Jensen yells, and the truck swings sharply to the right. 

Jared’s never been afraid that he’s gonna die.

-

“Fuck you! You hear me?!” Jared wobbles awake on the threat and thrashes momentarily before he understands that he’s still strapped in. 

He turns to the driver’s side and finds it empty; the keys are gone and Jared can’t see outside the window from where he’s slumped.

He’s trying to work up the strength to climb out and search for Jensen when he hears a crash.

His body trembles once in surprise and then he hears Jensen yelling again. The voice is diamond-raw and Jared recoils instinctively from the malevolence in it.

Jared’s never been frightened of Jensen until now, and he unbuckles himself with difficulty.

“I don’t know where she is--” Jensen screams, glass shatters. “You’re goddamn crazy, you think if I could find her I’d fucking be with you?!”

The derision that laces the sentiment is followed by what sounds like a punch and Jensen grunts heavily and stumbles against the driver’s side, rattling the truck entirely.

Jared whimpers and shoves his body further back so that he’s resting on the exit handle of the passenger door.

“You watch what the fuck you say to me,” Jared listens, and Jensen doesn’t answer; his back is still darkly outlined against the window.

“Fucking listening now, boy?” 

The truck shivers again as Jensen’s knocked against it once more and Jared’s holding his already labored breath.

He thinks about calling Chad but he doesn’t know if Chad’s still speaking to him and Colleen is definitely not in the cards.

Jared doesn’t realize he’s crying until the passenger door whips open and almost sends him tumbling a few feet to the ground.

“He’s gone, okay?” Jensen seems to have anticipated his fall and holds one palm against Jared’s cheek, spans up to his earlobe. 

Jared’s body sags and Jensen grunts with the strain. “Put me down,” Jared asks, voice shot. Jensen kicks the door shut and Jared can’t keep his eyes open long enough to see where they are.

“Not a chance,” Jensen says, and the crisp of night gives way to artificial house-light.

“M’gonna put you to bed,” Jensen says, weariness creeping into his voice with every step. Jared recognizes the wood-earth scent of Jensen’s room and he squirms in embarrassment.

“Who was that?” Jared says as Jensen’s joints creak when he lowers Jared to the bedspread. Jensen doesn’t answer and Jared’s thighs twitch involuntarily as Jensen tugs shoes, socks and jeans off in one smooth go.

Jared squeezes his eyes shut at what Jensen must see, pale, sloppy boy-flesh, inexperienced and thick under his eyes.

Jared’s fists won’t shut and they won’t raise to his face but Jensen leans over him, providing a shadow to to the backdrop of the room.

“Open your eyes baby, huh?” Jensen says, that soft-silk sound Jared keeps for himself.

Jared’s heart clings to his ribcage and he can’t really breathe but that doesn’t matter because Jensen’s looking down at him like he hung the moon.

Jensen’s cheek is carnation-blossomed and Jared makes a mewl of sympathy at the sight. Jensen’s mouth quirks and he winces at the responsive pain.

“Shit, you never been in a fight, Jay?” Jensen teases, and Jared shakes his head, no, he’d lose in a heartbeat anyway.

“What happened?” Jared asks, pries his tongue from his bone-laden mouth. 

Jensen leans in closer, tucks Jared’s bangs away from his face. Jared feels sticky and cumbersome, and Jensen’s hair is tickling his cheeks.

“I swear to God,” Jensen says, and Jared’s breath comes out choppy. “I’m gonna fucking kill you this time,” Jensen threatens, and Jared’s knees bounce.

Jensen takes his chin in his hand and drags Jared up the inches he can’t go to connect their mouths. 

Jensen kisses like he’s got no other plans than this and Jared shivers and allows it, begs his body to curl limbs around Jensen’s waist and hump upwards.

Jensen’s being careful not to rest any of his weight on Jared and he could cry for want of it.

Jensen drags his chin down, pops spit-warm lips further open and shoves his tongue up and under Jared’s. Jensen moves his hand to Jared’s hair and tangles his palm in brown for a solid grip.

Jared’s mouth smacks open for more when Jensen pulls away, but Jensen’s eyes are shut and he’s still got four fingers stuck deep in Jared’s trap of hair. 

“You in trouble?” Jared breathes, and his body shivers over to chilled, blades scraping at the open of his insides.

His breath rattles underneath Jensen’s body and Jensen stiffens at the feeling. “You’re not in charge of this anymore,” Jensen says carefully, and Jared widens his eyes. 

“I don't got the answers you want, Jared,” Jensen says plainly, and Jared’s dick gives a fragile little jump in his boxers at the sound. 

“I'm gonna do this--I'm gonna do right by you,” Jensen says, slate-firm and Jared’s mouth falls open on a whine. 

“You gotta let me alone, Jensen,” Jared says, because now he's panicked. Jensen can't hover and breathe over his meals and pry Jared’s dry lips wide to shove sugar and death down his throat?

Jared’s legs remain motionless, even though he's desperately struggling to work up the energy to kick himself free of Jensen’s air and space. 

“No,” Jared gurgles, head spinning bright. “No, fuck you,” Jared says, and Jensen presses a palm down on Jared's sternum. 

“No more,” Jensen promises, and Jared’s out of air.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Jared gets lucky because Jeff’s due back for two weekends in a row and Jared definitely forgot to tell his mother where he was the night he was with Jensen. 

She’s firm, reminds him not to do it again, but she knows it’s Chad and he’s “not the best influence, but he’s family, so there’s that,” and Jared’s in the clear.

Jared’s never gotten off so home-free in all his life and he doesn’t know what to do with the freedom of it.

He’s breezing through the street adjoining he and Chad’s house, fifty minutes deep into his run but he’s got to make up for yesterday, four pancakes lodged heavily in his throat because he legitimately couldn’t move far enough to get away.

Jared’s shins holler through every pounded step and he knows he’s got to finish because Jensen’s picking him up and if he sees--Jared’s not prepared with a contingency plan for that.

Jared puts on a burst of speed so that he can be finished by the time Jensen wheels around the corner, 6:30 sharp because Jensen doesn’t trust him.

Jared’s spinning around the tree on Castalia Dr and a shock of blond greets him, halfway covered under a Packers cap and what looks like a shawl.

“Fucking--” Jared hisses and whirls quickly in an attempt to avoid his best friend. Chad spins faster than Jared can compensate for and they both tumble directly into the grass, Jared’s knee banging against Chad’s shin.

“Jesus fucking Christ--you fucking--holy shit,” Jared wheezes, and Chad makes some kind of bastard groan underneath him.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” Chad moans, knocking Jared off long enough to regain his own footing. 

Chad slaps a palm out for Jared to grab hold of and Jared’s legs threaten to abandon him and so he utilizes the help without too much of a fuss.

“You always,” Chad wheezes, “run this way,” he finishes, and Jared checks his watch, fifteen more minutes before he needs to be home so he can shower and look presentable for Jensen’s arrival.

“He said you’d do this shit,” Chad grouses and he slings an arm around Jared’s shoulder and steers him up his driveway.

Reebs’ Jeep is already missing and Jared’s laugh sticks in his throat as he thinks about her rocking the metal frame with the VIII.

“He’s coming here to grab you,” Chad says, and Jared sees that Chad’s front door is halfway ajar, propped open with an empty paper towel roll.

Jared thinks about being locked in this house (childhood second home, lego men and bruises), parceled off to Jensen like a wayward child.

Jared ducks underneath Chad’s arm and sets off at a dead sprint, even as Chad fumbles for balance behind him.

Jared’s already high-kneeing it back to his house and he can hear Chad thundering in pursuit. Chad’s gonna fall back soon; he’s in decent shape but Jared’s been running six miles a day for years and he’s afraid.

Jensen’s gonna be here in ten minutes and Jared should’ve been back five minutes ago. Jared can’t see through the blur of salt and tears on his face and he’s got a test first period that he was supposed to study for this morning.

He’d studied for four hours last night but he always, always does better when he studies after his run.

Chad’s footfalls aren’t slapping heavy behind him anymore and Jared knows that at this point, Chad’s probably tattling on him, Jensen’s voice pressed to his ear.

Jared swipes at his eyes and checks his fitbit, six miles down. He wants to laugh and scream all at the same time and he keeps his head low and, for the second time today; he’s almost run over.

There’s a black Camaro rolling up in his driveway, and Jared comes to a stuttering halt behind it; it’s still warm.

There’s a Duke sticker on the bumper and Jared braces himself on his knees as the driver door opens. Jeff’s due back while Jared’s in school today, but mom and dad got Jeff a Mercedes for graduation.

Jared’s thoughts hover around non-sequitur and when the driver gets out; Jared can see that Drake Brown is standing before him and Jared’s fucked to shit.

“Jared?” Drake says, t-shirt straining from where he lifts an arm to shade his eyes, “What the hell you doing up, man?” 

Jared feels cumbersome and sweaty, heavy in his body like Drake can see all the ugly parts of him. “Morning run,” Jared huffs, heart rate already decelerated. 

Drake smiles sheepishly, and Jared can see that there’s a fading mark on his cheek from where Jensen bashed him into Jared’s linoleum like garbage.

“I’m bringing back some of Jeff’s clothes that I borrowed last time,” Drake explains, neck flushed. “I was just gonna leave ‘em on the doorstep,” he continues, “I’m fucking beat from the drive, man.”

Jared wonders why Drake’s come back home on another visit, but he’s already running behind schedule and Jensen’s absolutely  _ not  _ going to find him run-sweaty with  _ Drake Brown _ in his driveway.

“I gotta--” Jared says, gentle sway on his feet, “I gotta get to school,” Jared finishes apologetically, and Jared peers up at Drake from behind his bangs, sun-gold eyes blinking lethargically.

Drake takes four steps closer and Jared shivers in place, sweat and proximity. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Drake says kindly, “I’ll drop you off, it’s on my way home.”

It's on the tip of Jared’s tongue to refuse; Jensen is probably like two minutes away and Jared isn't exactly ready for the sweet release of death today. 

But he's also a mess, his shirt is sticking to his skin and he looks like he just ran a cool six. 

“I have a shirt in my car,” Drake offers, and Jared glances down at his watch. Jensen is definitely about to drive up. 

“Okay,” Jared says, and even Drake looks surprised, eyes widening ever so slightly. “Okay, lemme grab my bookbag,” Jared says hurriedly, and he jogs up his front steps to crack his front door open. His backpack is right beside it for easy access and Drake’s grinning when Jared turns back around.

“S-sorry about this,” Jared shivers, and Drake opens his passenger door and closes it softly behind him. 

“Hey, man, don’t worry about it, okay?” Drake says, slanting his eye to glance over at Jared. “You don’t ride with Chase’s little brother anymore?” Drake asks, merging with traffic while still staring hard at Jared.

“He’s--Reebs is busy this morning and can’t take us,” Jared lies, looks down and fiddles with tacky polyester.

“Shirt’s in the back,” Drake offers, and Jared winds his body backwards, still strapped in, and rummages through the travel bags strewn across the backseat.

“Sorry it’s a fucking mess, last minute decision,” Drake laughs, and Jared’s heart thumps erratically as he tugs at the VTech t-shirt underneath what smells like Drake’s laundry.

“S’okay,” Jared grunts, bracing his calves against the leather stick of Drake’s seat. “M’just really tired,” Jared admits, and his body crashes against the passenger door as Drake takes a sharp turn.

“Jesus, shit,” Drake mutters and Jared feels the car slow and then come to a complete halt. 

“I’ll get it,” Drake says, and Drake’s slamming his door and opening the back in order to pass Jared the shirt. Jared shuts his eyes tightly, pale-white lingering in front of his pupils, and when he opens them again Drake has the passenger door open and is leaning over him, eyes just as concerned before but less drunk.

“Your eyes are hazel,” Jared says dumbly, and Drake’s mouth splits open and he brings one hand up to cup Jared’s cheek, every fragment of his attention resting heavily on Jared’s face.

“Lighter in the sun,” Drake murmurs, and Jared’s head is bricklaid and his face sags into the comfort of Drake’s palm. 

“Now yours,” Drake says firmly, “you got hazel eyes, Jared.” Jared shivers, he knows he does, but he’s so goddamn cold all the time, and he’s so happy this fucking shirt is long-sleeved that he could cry for the imagined warmth of it.

“I don’t--I--” Jared stutters and Drake’s face crinkles heavily when he smiles again. Jared’s wondering if he can even rally himself enough to change shirts when Drake’s hand slips away and he stands from the crouch he’d been in.

Jared doesn’t remember Drake kneeling, but he doesn’t really recall much from this morning regardless. 

“Gonna be late,” Drake smiles, and Jared pushes up, palms to knees. He’s mostly dry except for the telltale curl at the bottom of his hair, still damp with sweat and his phone buzzes roughly against his thigh when his shorts finally unstick to his legs.

Jared holds the shirt up to his chest and he can’t help it; he glances shyly up at Drake, fingers gripped tight around fabric and Drake laughs so simple that Jared’s ears flame and ignite.

“Don’t want me lookin’, sweetheart?” Drake says teasingly, but he’s already turning and Jared feels such a surge of relief for the fact that Drake’s listening, and not looking down on him, that Jared quickly pulls the new shirt on and it hangs down low over his shorts.

“Okay,” Jared says, “okay, you can turn around now, thanks.”

Drake grins once more and then he pulls out his phone, glances down and frowns. “Told my mom I’d be home by now,” he apologizes, backing up toward the driver’s side.

“You need a ride home, you call me,” Drake says, “understand?” Jared nods on autopilot and Drake peels out of the student parking lot a speed that would give him a ticket if he still attended.

Jared’s legs jitter against one another and he’s got six missed calls from Chad and another ten voicemails winking from Jensen alone.

-

It’s not Chad or Jensen that Jared runs into first; it’s Colleen.

Colleen strongarms him into the boys locker room after the fitness block and knocks him down onto the bench with one well-placed palm.

Jared’s head swims in place and he slaps out a palm to keep spine upright. Colleen’s hand descends on his shoulder and she holds him steady; is he swaying or is that the floor?

“Why aren’t you answering Chad’s calls?” Colleen’s face is narrowed and Jared snorts in disbelief. 

“You’re here to lecture me?” Jared says, “in the guys locker room. Cool,” he adds, and he’s bracing himself for the accompanying dizziness when he rises.

“Jensen either,” Colleen admonishes, and her face softens infinitesimally and she curls a small hand around Jared’s arm.

Jared wants to cry, drag himself away from the burn of her touch but he holds firm; Colleen’s like five inches shorter than him and he’ll be damned if he allows her to intimidate him like this.

“M’sorry I got so damn mad,” Colleen whispers, and Jared peers up through the fringe of blonde. 

“You just--you always do this, but now you’re doin’ it all the time,” Colleen says, dropping her grip to grab at Jared’s shoulders. 

“You gotta eat. I won’t--I won’t tell anybody Jared, but you gotta eat.” Colleen’s pretty face is all twisted up and for one wilted second Jared can see exactly what Brian Simmons has seen in his best friend all these years. 

“Lemme go, Coll,” Jared whispers, and Colleen’s hands tighten, predictably. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Jare,” Colleen says, and her voice is starting to rise and they’re gonna think she and him are doing something far dirtier in this bathroom than talking about how Jared legitimately just wants to be left alone; he’s doing fine on his own.

“Chad’s not gonna let you do this shit,” she continues, “and Jensen--” Colleen’s mouth wraps funny around the name and then Jared hears Jensen’s voice echoing down mostly empty hallways.

“Get the ever loving  _ fuck  _ outta my way.”

Jared’s up in an instant, nevermind his head or the knives or his heart and he’s skittering away from Colleen; she’s Judas to him now.

“I didn’t--don’t fucking gimme that look,” Colleen yells, and Jared’s face twists nasty. “You set me up!” Jared says, and his voice is carrying and he was planning on calling Jeff to see if he could come pick him up because he definitely doesn’t have Drake’s number.

“Jensen’s not gonna leave you alone, you idiot,” Colleen says, but her arms are wrapped around her waist and she’s looking from the door to Jared so quickly that her she’s going a bit cross-eyed.

When the door shudders inward Chad’s first, and his face is black with rage. He nods curtly at Colleen and then he comes up next to Jared, eyes slivered in reproach.

“You fuckin’ asshole,” Chad grits out, “you’re gonna sit the fuck down and--” Colleen makes a grab for Chad’s arm but Chad shrugs her off and she narrowly avoids colliding with Jensen.

Jensen steadies Colleen with one hand to her back but he’s staring at Jared, eyes sin-dark and unwavering.

“You’re making it worse! Shut the hell up!” Colleen says, and Jared catches sight of her pale face. Chad’s still stalking closer and then Jensen steps in between the two of them, standing before Jared like reckoning.

“School’s out,” Jensen says, and Chad shuts up, Colleen’s hand on his like a vice.

“You coming with me?” Jensen asks, but Jared knows that there is no option and it’s just for the benefit of Jared’s (former) best friends.

“I’ll drop you off at home,” Jensen says, and Jared knows his mother doesn’t expect him back until around seven; he’s at the library every day after school.

Jared snorts in disbelief at his predictability and then he ducks his head, too exhausted to do anything but follow Jensen from the room.

“Jared!” Chad yells, but he stiffens his spine and refuses to look back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> special middle school pep rally shout out to silver9mm cause I can barely edit a sentence, let alone an entire work.


End file.
